CROSSINGS
by Lissa Bryan
Summary: NOW COMPLETE. For some, there is no other choice than to risk everything on the chance they may be able to make a better life for those they love. Bella is fleeing for her life, her baby clasped to her heart. With every step, she gets closer to the land of the free, but will she and her precious child make it to safety?


**CROSSINGS**

By Lissa Bryan

* * *

 _Dedicated to my immigrant ancestors, who came to America fleeing the Potato Famine — undocumented, poor, friendless_ _—_ _likely with little but the clothes on their backs and the determination to make a better life for their children._

* * *

 **Part One**

She crouched behind the tree, her hand pressed over her mouth because even the sound of her breaths seemed too loud. She could hear them making their way through the underbrush, the snaps of twigs as loud as gunshots in the stillness. Lights flashed across the trees, casting ghostly and skeletal shadows in the darkness.

Renesmee stirred in her arms and Bella's already racing heart seemed to stutter. She briefly closed her eyes in prayer and pulled the baby closer to her chest. _Let her sleep, please God. Don't let her wake now and whimper or cry._

She lowered her lips down to the baby's ear and crooned to her and tugged the blanket up around her chin. Renesmee opened her sleepy eyes and pursed her lips before dozing back off. Bella slowly released her breath and send up a wordless prayer of thanks.

The crunch of boots through the leaves seemed closer, and she couldn't tell the direction it was coming from. She turned around in a slow circle, and for a terrible instant, terror blanked her mind. But she closed her eyes again and forced her breathing to slow, forced herself to think. She needed to hide. She spotted a fallen tree, its roots ripped upward in a semi-circle of earth.

As nimbly as she could, she dashed over to it, trying not to break any sticks or disturb the leaf litter on the ground. She reached over slowly to take hold of a branch still retaining some of its dried leaves and lowly pulled it over herself, inch by agonizing inch, afraid if she moved too suddenly, the branch might snap in her grip and the men would stream from behind the trees, shouting as they closed in around her.

Every part of her screamed for Bella to jump up and make a run for it, to get as far from the sound of those footsteps as possible, but she knew she had to wait. Wait until they'd passed and she could slip away under cover of darkness. If they spotted her, it would be over.

 _"You need to go if you can, Bells," her father had said, and hearing the nickname of her babyhood had made tears sting her eyes. "For yourself, for your baby. Renesmee shouldn't grow up in a place like this. Take her somewhere she can grow up to be somebody."_

 _"But I don't want to leave you behind!" She was worried what might happen to Charlie if she wasn't there to watch over him, to see to it that he ate and took care of himself. He was always so worried about others that he neglected his own needs, but it was one of the reasons why she loved him so._

 _"I've got my family to watch over me." Charlie glanced up at Leah, who was stirring a pot on the stove and then over at Edward, who was carefully re-stringing his violin. "Might even include that man of yours in that designation if he watches his steps."_

 _She glanced at Edward too, but pulled her eyes away from him. He had made his opinion on this subject very clear. He was desperate for her to go, to get their daughter to a place of safety, to the land of the free._

 _"I can't leave you," she'd whispered against his neck as they lay in bed together that night, the sound of crickets drifting in through the open window._

 _"You must," he murmured. "If there's a chance, Bella. A single, slender chance that Renesmee could grow up in a place where her life could have value, a place of safety and freedom, how can we deny her that because we cannot bear to be apart?"_

Feet crunched through the leaves to her left. The man was so close that Bella could smell acrid tobacco smoke and wisps of it drifted past her hiding place. He stepped forward and his shoes appeared between the leaves covering her. She could have reached out and touched him. She held her breath. Her hand hovered over Renesmee's face, ready to clamp down over her mouth if the baby made a sound.

She tasted blood and realized she was biting down on her lip, but she was too scared to move even that much.

"We know you're here!" a man's voice called. "Give yourself up now and it can go easy. Or it can go real hard if we have to track you down."

Bella forced herself to breathe deep and slow, to wrest control back from the spiral of panic. This was her only chance; she'd never have another. She reached out to her faith once more, and a still, cool calm washed over her. Later, she would wonder if it was from some unknown depth of strength she'd tapped or the hand of God covering her in the moment of her greatest need, but whatever it was, it allowed her to stay calm and silent and control the shaking that threatened to rattle the leaves around her.

She leaned close over Renesmee, breathing in Renesmee's sweet, clean baby scent and the scent of home, too, of the blanket dried on the line behind the house. She remembered the first time she'd smelled this, the first time she'd held her baby in her arms after she'd been tucked into bed with her and she'd looked down at that reddened and wrinkled infant face with its bleary little eyes and felt a wave of the most powerful love she'd ever experienced.

She'd looked over at Edward and then she knew. Knew that they couldn't bring up their baby here, not in this world. She could never let this innocent, tiny girl experience the horrors Bella had known. She could tell from the look in Edward's eyes that he knew it too. They would have to risk everything for this baby, risk death itself to get her over the border into freedom and safety.

There was a sound of a distant voice and the man beside her called back. "Here, Bob. Coming."

The feet strode out of her line of vision and the light he was carrying began to recede. But Bella didn't move. She had to make sure they were far enough away that they wouldn't hear her or spot her. She bent down and laid a kiss on Renesmee's soft forehead. The baby was still sound asleep, and Bella sent up a prayer of gratitude from the depths of her soul. God was surely looking out for her this night.

 _"You'll be close enough then," Edward had said. "You can make a run for it and swim the river."_

 _"I can't swim."_

 _"I'll teach you."_

 _She rolled over and buried her face in his neck. "I'd rather you come with me."_

 _"I'll come after. Two of us together — it increases the chance we'll be spotted and caught. I'll follow after you, when it's safe."_

 _She wanted to argue with him, but she knew what he was saying was true. One small woman holding a baby would be less likely to be spotted than the three of them together._

 _She pressed herself hard against his body, trying to memorize the feel of him, the sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear._

 _"If they catch me…" Bella whispered against his skin. She didn't need to finish the sentence. He knew what would happen if she was caught. "And you'll never see Renesmee again. And if I do manage to cross the river, the locals might turn me in. Might turn us in."_

 _"You'll need to blend in. You can do that. Get a job somewhere. Write to me. Wait for me."_

 _Wait for me._

Wait for me.

Bella jerked and looked around frantically. She must have nodded off from the sheer exhaustion. She wasn't even sure how long she'd been running, evading those searching for her. Days, maybe. It felt like an eternity.

But the forest around her was silent.

She checked the baby's diaper and found it wet. She changed it as carefully as she could, trying not to wake Renesmee as she did so. She scratched out a hole in the ground to bury the dirty one. She had so few of them left…

Wincing at the soreness of her stiff muscles and blistered feet, she rose. She looked up at the sky as Edward had taught her, picking out the constellations. She turned until she spotted it. There. The North Star. The one that would always point her way.

He'd shown it to her the night he asked her to marry him. They'd walked to the meadow together near sunset.

 _"Charlie is going to wonder where I've gotten off to," she whispered, dizzy with kisses._

 _"He's going to have to get used to me stealing you away." Edward had lifted her hand and slipped a ring onto her finger, a ring his brother had helped him to make._

 _"It's brass and will turn your finger green," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "But someday I'll replace it with one of gold. I swear it, Bella. Someday… You see that star up there? Right at the end of the Little Dipper? We're going to follow that star north to freedom. To a new life. One free of violence and oppression. The life you deserve."_

She walked slowly through the woods, stopping to listen occasionally to the sounds of the night. Her pursuers seemed to have shifted to the east. Occasionally, she could hear the faint sound of a voice, but it seemed far enough that it was safe to continue, continue this journey which seemed like it would never end.

Renesmee stirred and whimpered in her arms. Bella took a seat on a fallen tree and unbuttoned her top, guiding the baby's head to her breast. She looked down into those sweet eyes and traced her finger along one of the baby's plump cheeks.

All the violence, all of the degradation she had experienced… all of the steps in her life which had led her to this point… They would be worth it if she could only get Renesmee to safety.

Whenever a gap in the tree canopy appeared, she checked the stars, making sure she was still going in the right direction. She wasn't going to think about how far she might yet have to go. She was just going to think of walking to the next tree that appeared to be due north in front of her and then pick another tree after that, and then after that —

She froze in her tracks. A man was sitting on the ground, his back leaned against the tree in front of her, smoking. All she could see of him was one shoulder and the brim of his hat. His gun was propped against a sapling a few feet to his right. Within reaching distance, but he'd have to lean for it.

How long she stood there, she never knew. At any moment, he would turn his head and see her.

On the ground beside her was a rock. She eyed it, then eyed the man, her brain making calculations seemingly without her permission. When he turned his head to search in his pocket for something, she crouched down, moving slowly, and picked up the rock. It was heavy and cool in her hand.

 _Hit him_ , a voice in her head whispered. _If he sees you, it's over. Over for you and Renesmee. One strike, hard and fast, against the temple._

She lifted the rock, but drew it back.

 _I can't kill someone._

 _If you don't, you're as good as dead yourself._

He might not die, she told herself. Maybe, if she hit him hard, but not too hard, she'd just knock him out.

She squeezed her hand around the rock and told herself she could do this. To protect herself. To protect her baby.

Her whole body was trembling. She raised the rock above her head. She closed her eyes.

 _I'll count to three. And then I'll do it._

She counted. Her arm didn't move.

 _Come on, Bella, you have to._

The man stood, dusting off the back of his pants with his hands. He stretched, rolling his head on his shoulders and slung his gun over his shoulder. Without ever looking in her direction, he strode away. She could hear him whistling as he walked through the underbrush.

She still held the rock above her head. It was an effort to lower it and force her fingers to open. The rock thudded to the floor of the woods, and Bella fell to her knees beside it. Her head was swimming and she felt like she might vomit. She'd almost killed someone.

She'd almost killed someone.

That he would drag her back to hell without a second thought was irrelevant. That he would probably look at her and not see a desperate woman with a child, but someone less than human didn't really change things. She'd almost killed him, and she wasn't sure what that said about her, wasn't sure if she wanted to know if she would have gone through with it if he hadn't stood when he did.

She lifted her head and forced herself to her feet. She would have to wait a few minutes to make sure he was far enough away so he wouldn't hear her, but she was so close to the river she could smell the water.

Freedom was closer.

She set off again after checking the stars to make sure she was still on track. The sky seemed a little lighter blue toward the east, which quickened her pace. She had to be on the other side of the river before dawn.

 _There_! Through the trees, she caught a glimpse of moonlight sparkling on the water. The trees thinned out and she reached the riverbank. A laugh of sheer exhilaration escaped her before she could stop it.

 _"What will you do when you see it? That river?"_

 _Edward thought for a moment. He was playing with her hand as they lay together in their bed, his fingers twining with hers. "I think I'd fall to my knees and praise God that at least I got a glimpse of the other side."_

She didn't have time to pray, but she sent up a thought of gratitude. She scanned the banks. In her heart of hearts, she'd hoped there would be a boat, someone's raft or fishing boat she could _… borrow_ to take them across safely. But Edward had tried to prepare her for what to do if there wasn't. They'd even practiced in the creek.

Laying the baby down near the bank of the river, she began to collect branches from the tree line, frantically gathering and running back to Renesmee to pile them by her side. In the distance, she could hear them, shouted words indistinct through the trees, but getting closer. Panic speeded her step as she ran back and forth, trying to make as little noise as possible. And the sky in the east was growing lighter every moment…

A gasp tore from her lips. She could a light bouncing off the treetops. They were close again, and there was no more time. The wood she'd gathered would have to be enough. She tore strips of the baby's blanket and used it to tie the bundles together as tightly as she could and lay Renesmee on top of the raft. The baby gave a soft, sleepy coo and opened her eyes. They sparkled in the moonlight.

Bella closed her own eyes and sent up a prayer that she wasn't dooming her daughter to a watery grave in the river's depths with this crazy plan.

She waded out, her boots sinking into the sucking mud as she trudged into the depths. Her feet left the bank and she bobbed in the water beside the raft, hanging onto it with one hand.

Should she have tied herself to it, she wondered, so it wouldn't possibly float from her grasp?

Or if she drowned, would it give Rensesmee a chance, floating atop the raft, if her body wasn't attached? Such a morbid, unpleasant thought.

Edward had taught her to swim in that creek and had insisted she do it while wearing her clothes so she could get used to the weight, but it was still shocking as she felt it tugging her down. She tried to keep her face pointed upwards as she kicked, but water filled her mouth when she opened it to gasp for air and she choked. She pressed her face against one of the branches, so her coughs would be muffled.

 _Kick_ , she told herself. _Kick, Bella. Come on. You must._

Her feet churned in the water and her one free hand clawed at it as if trying to pull herself along. She felt the current catch them and reminded herself not to fight it, but to allow herself to drift with it, angling her way toward the shore that seemed so incredibly distant.

 _Got to get a rhythm going. Control your breathing, control your motions. You can do this._

It was amazing how tiring this was. She'd been running all night and had barely slept the night before, which sapped at her strength, but this was incredibly draining.

She should have taken off her shoes, she thought. It would be a little less weight, but they were laced too tightly for her to be able to kick them off now.

If only she could rest for a moment. Just a moment. She tried to let herself float by the raft, but she started to sink and had to kick back up to the surface. For a moment, it was all she could do to keep her nose and mouth above the water, to steal breaths before she was drawn back down.

 _I'm not going to make it._

Tears stung her eyes. And she forced herself to kick harder.

 _I'm not going to make it. I've killed my daughter. Renesmee, I'm so sorry. I tried. I wanted a better life for you. I wanted you to be free._

She managed to gulp in a full breath and tightened her grip on the raft. She accepted that she might not make it, but she was going to die trying. If she was going down, she was going down fighting every inch.

Time seemed to lose all meaning. Her thoughts drifted in and out of memories as she kicked. The moonlight glimmered on the water and she thought back to Edward saying that if she missed him, all she had to do was look up at the moon and know that he was looking at it too and missing her just as badly.

… Of Charlie, kissing Renesmee before he handed her back to Bella for the last time, tears in his eyes as he pleaded, " _Don't let her forget me."_

Of Jasper, leaning against the wall of the house, his lips twisted in a sickening leer as he stared at Bella, reminding her of why she had fled and what she wanted to protect her daughter from ever experiencing.

She kept kicking because every inch further she got away, the closer she was to safety, to a better world.

Would she ever reach it? She lifted her head and tried to spot the opposite side, but it seemed just as far away, as though she were making no forward progress at all.

Despair threatened to swamp her. A horrible thought drifted through her mind. What if she just … let go of Renesmee's raft? Let herself sink beneath the cool water? Just let the current take her to a place where there was no pain, no struggle, no fear?

She lifted a tired hand from the water and slapped her own cheek as hard as the force in her trembling arm would allow. She _had_ to fight. She'd promised Edward, promised her daughter. Promised herself. There was no giving up. She lowered her head against the raft and kicked. Kicked until her legs seemed to power themselves without her direction, kicked because there was no other choice but to keep going.

Her feet brushed against the bank and she tried to stand but fell back to her knees in mud. Every step felt like lifting a thousand pounds as she slogged through the shallows, up the slippery bank, and finally collapsed near the grass line, turning to the side to avoid crushing Rensesmee. She lay there, facedown, gasping until she could finally lift her eyes to see it.

Tears spilled down her cheeks unheeded. She'd made it across the Ohio River.

A choked cry slipped from her mouth and she pressed a hand over her lips to hold it back. She still had to remain quiet. The Fugitive Slave Act meant the men could pursue her into a free state to capture her and bring her back.

Tears streamed down over the back of her hand as she looked back toward Kentucky. The moon glimmered off the river and Bella wondered if Edward might be looking at it now, too, thinking of her, thinking of their baby.

* * *

 **Part Two**

Bella hadn't known her own mother, Renee. She'd died of fever when Bella was just a baby, or so Charlie had told her. When she was older, Bella heard that her mother had actually been sold to a plantation further south — which was effectively the same thing. She was gone forever and her family would never see her again, never hear from her, never know what had happened to her.

Raised at the Big House, Bella was assigned as a playmate for the Cullen's daughter, Alice. Bella didn't particularly enjoy playing with Alice, who was autocratic and had a mean streak, but as Charlie said, they all had their jobs to do, and hers was to be Alice's playmate.

Though they had fun at times, here was always a vast social gulf between the girls that precluded any true friendship, a gulf that could never be crossed, was never spoken of, but was absolutely immutable. Bella wasn't really another little girl to Alice. Bella was more along the lines of a pet — a creature which might walk and talk just as she did but could never truly be seen as a _person_.

She learned to read when Alice had her lessons. They didn't think Bella was paying attention as she picked up Alice's toys and made her bed, but she was. At night, she taught the other slaves the same lessons she'd learned that day, tracing the letters in water on the wood floor of their shack. It was all done in whispers. This was forbidden knowledge, after all.

Alice dressed Bella like a doll in her castoff clothing, practiced fashioning the elaborate hairstyles adult women wore on Bella's head, yanking a comb through Bella's curls until her eyes stung with tears. They played tea parties where Bella was alternatively one of Alice's peers or the maidservant, depending on Alice's mood.

Like Alice's other dolls, Alice had tired of Bella as she got older and had ceased asking for her around the time she went off to Madame Mentelle's boarding school **[i]** in Lexington. Bella became her lady's maid when she returned from school, following Alice from party to party, fetching her parasols and gloves, cleaning her chamber pot, and picking up the items Alice carelessly dropped on the floor when she was done with them, and dodging the groping hands of Alice's suitors.

She wasn't always able to dodge.

Leah found her crying one night, holding together the shreds of her dress and had wordlessly held her as she wept. There was really nothing she could say. It was part of their world. They didn't have the right to say _no._ That right came with the personhood they were denied because of the color of their skin. They were things to be used and had no one to whom they could appeal for help. It was a brutality they had to endure like so many.

Bella met Edward when he was brought from a neighboring plantation to play the violin for a dance, and it was he who showed her what joy life had to offer. Sweet stolen moments under the moonlight, kisses snatched in hallways, lingering touches as they passed…

Reverend Weber of the little church near the slave quarters performed the wedding ceremony, and Bella had worn flowers woven in her hair.

Alice was getting married soon, too, to Jasper Hale of Louisiana, a distant cousin of the Cullens.

It was Rose who told her of Mrs. Cullen's plans. She'd overheard as she was putting away some freshly-washed laundry. After the wedding, Mrs. Cullen was going to tell Alice she was giving her Bella and her baby as a wedding gift[ii]. Bella and Renesmee would go off to Louisiana with Alice and Jasper and likely never see any of her family or Edward again, except if Alice felt generous enough to bring Bella along on any visits she made to her family.

Dizzy nausea had overtaken Bella as she heard the words leave Rose's lips and she'd sank down to the floor, resting her cheek against the door frame, cool and solid as the room span in sick, wobbling circles around her.

She hadn't even wanted to tell Edward as she lay in his arms that evening, but he could tell something heavy was weighing on her spirit.

"You have to escape," he said. "You and Renesmee. You have to go or I'll never see either of you again."

Alice was going to Covington to shop for her wedding trousseau and was taking Bella with her. It would be the closest Bella had ever been to the border of a free state. If she and Renesmee could get across the Ohio river, they would be in Northern territory. Not safe from the slave-catchers, of course, but she'd be able to travel openly without anyone stopping her to question whether she had a pass from her owner. And they'd heard rumors about abolitionists who ran an "underground railroad" for escaping slaves.

 _"Edward, how can I leave you?" Bella's throat hurt almost too much to speak. "To leave you, Charlie… Everyone I love? What if I never — " She couldn't finish that sentence. Couldn't actually say the words never see you again because speaking them aloud was too real, to sharp, too brutal._

 _"I'll follow you. Listen to me. I've made an arrangement with the overseer at my plantation. He's a good man, a kind man. Whenever you stop in a city, send him a postcard. Just address it to Emmett at The Pines and leave the message blank. When you've reached Canada and settled in a city, send one with a heart drawn in the message space. That's how I'll know where you are."_

 _"But, Edward, really, how can we be sure—"_

 _"I swear it to you." Edward stared hard into her eyes, as though he could force her to believe it through his own willpower. "Bella, I swear it, we will be together again."_

 _Draptetomania_. That was the name given to what the slaveholders saw as the inexplicable urge of slaves to escape, for people they beat, raped, and exploited to flee for freedom. It had to be a mental condition, they thought, an insanity. There was no other reason why people would choose to leave bondage and subjugation.

They thought themselves kind and merciful. They, who were so proud of grandfathers who'd fought in the Revolution, couldn't understand why the people they so brutally oppressed thirsted for freedom and personhood, why they could never forgive having their children ripped from their arms and sold on the block, never to be seen again.

It was the thought of that horror, of seeing Renesmee sold away or abused as Bella had been which made up her mind to never allow her child to be raised as a slave.

While Alice was taking a nap after a day of shopping, Bella walked downstairs. Renesmee was in a cradle in the kitchen, being watched over by an elderly enslaved woman who belonged to the owner of the house, friends Alice was staying with while she shopped and socialized. The woman had met Bella's eyes as she picked up the baby, and then had glanced down at the small duffel bag Bella had packed, slung over her shoulder. She met Bella's eyes and smiled. She reached out a bony, wrinkled hand, the palm calloused with years of labor and briefly squeezed Bella's hand.

Bella opened the kitchen door. She looked out and saw no one. She took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. She paused there on the step, her hand on the knob, because once she took another step outside, she was committed. She would officially be a runaway.

She looked down at her baby and let go of the door. Swiftly, she headed out through the back yard into the quiet street. She tried to keep her pace brisk, as though the were on an errand, but not quick enough to raise suspicion. All it would take is one person demanding to see her pass and it would be over.

 _North_. Just keep heading north. She ducked between buildings, keeping her head down. Her heart was hammering, and a fierce joy was singing through her veins. She drew in deep, cleansing breaths, the first she'd ever drawn as a free woman.

"Free," she whispered to Renesmee.

 _Just keep heading north. Follow the North Star._

It was a song they sang:

 _Follow the drinkin' gourd,  
Follow the drinkin' 's a roadsign in heaven  
On that muddy path to the drinkin' gourd._

Soon, the city began to thin out, and the large yards with their manicured gardens became small farms. And then the woods beyond them. She sang softly to the baby as she headed through the woods.

 _I'm on my way to Canada,  
That cold and dreary land,  
The dire effects of slavery  
I can no longer stand,  
My soul is vexed within me more  
To think that I'm a slave,  
And now resolved to strike the blow  
For freedom or the grave._  
 _Oh, Righteous Father, wilt thou pity me_  
 _And aid me on to Canada,_  
 _where colored men are free._ **[iii]**

* * *

As the sky began to lighten, Bella fed Renesmee and then once the baby fell asleep, she settled her down in a soft patch of grass. She headed for the water and crouched by its edge. Her dress was covered with mud. She looked exactly like a person who'd just swam the river and there was no way she could walk into town looking like this. She'd have to try to wash herself as much as possible and wait for the dress to dry before she could try to make her way into town.

She scooped up a handful of sand from the water and tried to use it to scrub out the mud from her hem. She was so intent that she didn't hear the footsteps until they were right beside her.

The toe of a pair of boots edged into her line of vision and Bella let out a sharp cry of alarm. She lost her balance and fell onto her backside into the water, scrambling back as she looked up at the person looming over her.

The boots peeked out from under a faded calico skirt. The woman wearing it was elderly, her white hair curling out from under the edges of her bleached white cap. Her brown face was creased with wrinkles, but the dark eyes surveying Bella were sharp.

She looked over at the baby sleeping in the grass, the remains of the raft, and then back at the mud-caked Bella. "Well, come on, then."

"Who… Who are you?"

"Sue," the old woman said over her shoulder.

"Please," Bella called after her and the woman paused. She was so afraid to ask, to verbally admit she was a fugitive even though she knew the woman had her pegged already. "Is this Indiana?"

"No, you're still in Ohio. Cincinnati is only a few miles away." Sue started off again up the bank and disappeared over a hill.

Frowning, Bella stood and tried to wring out some of the water from her sopping skirts. She picked up Renesmee to follow, because she had little choice when it came down to it. This woman might be leading her to the authorities to turn her in. She might be leading her to help. But Bella was too exhausted and hungry to try running. She followed the slight figure as she threaded between the trees.

A cottage appeared in a small clearing, small and humble but neat as a pin, as Leah used to say. Sue opened the door and waited for Bella to come inside.

Bella gave her a little curtsey at the door. "I'm B —"

Sue held up her hand quickly. "Don't tell me your name."

"But you told me—"

Sue laughed. "Not my _real_ name."

It was a terrifying thing, being so unsure of what to do. She wanted to trust this woman, but she knew she was in an incredibly vulnerable position right now.

"Let's get you out of those wet clothes," Sue said, and went over to the trunk at the foot of the bed. She opened it and sorted through the dresses inside until she found one she wanted, pulled out a dress and petticoats.

"Ma'am, I can't take your clothes."

"Don't worry, because you're not. They're not mine, not really. They were left by the last escaped slave who came staggering up that bank. I wash 'em and pass 'em on to the next woman who needs them, same as I'll do with the dress you have on."

"Thank you," Bella said. She glanced around, feeling odd about stripping down in this strange woman's kitchen, but grateful at the thought of getting these clammy clothes off her body. She pulled off her layers of clothing down to her shift and raggedy drawers that had been sewn and patched so much that they were more patches than white cotton.

"Those too," Sue directed as she laid a pile of fresh clothes on the table in front of Bella. She wasn't looking in Bella's direction, which made it a little easier to pull them off.

Bella pulled on the new drawers and slipped the fresh chemise over her head. It smelled like soap and sunshine. Next came stockings, deftly darned in a few spots, two petticoats, a bodice and a skirt. She'd donned more layers than she'd taken off. The dress was brown calico with a row of dark brown buttons down the front, for which she was grateful. Otherwise, how would she be able to nurse without stripping down? The dress fit surprisingly well, only a little loose. The shoes, however, wouldn't fit, too small for Bella's feet.

"We'll have to dry yours," Sue said and moved them to the porch step where they could sit in the air and sunshine. Bella saw her eyebrow lift a little when Sue examined them. "You were in the house, then?"

As she nodded, Bella tried to keep her face impassive. Among slaves, there was a strict hierarchy, and house slaves were envied. Their lodgings were better, their clothing nicer, and they didn't have to toil in the fields, though what they experienced at their owners' hands could be just as brutal.

"We'll move that button on your skirt band," Sue said, and took down a sewing box from the mantle.

"You seem… well-accustomed to this. To finding runaways on your doorstep, I mean."

"It's why I moved here," Sue said. She sat down by Bella's side and snipped off the button she intended to move. "My husband and I worked with the abolitionists a bit north of here. After he died, I decided to come down here to the river, where the need was greater."

Bella thought of the Cullens. Their fear and loathing of the abolitionists had been almost fanatical. They'd tried to teach the slaves to fear them, that they'd be tricked or stolen if they listened to anyone whispering of "freedom." They just wanted labor for their northern mills, and in them, they were warned, people were treated far worse than slaves, and paid so little that they and their families were on the brink of starvation.

"I don't know how to thank you," Bella said.

"No need." Sue's tone was brusque. "This is the Lord's work I'm doing. My reward is coming."

Sue made a few more stitches and pronounced the button done. "There you are. And you look quite respectable. We'll just get your hair pilled up and under a bonnet and no one will question a thing about you when you head into town."

"I don't know quite where I'm going yet," Bella confessed. "I know I need to get to Canada, but—"

"I can direct you to people who can help. Give me your wet things now."

"Just a moment." Bella took the scissors from the table where Sue had laid them and cut a few stitches from the hem of her skirt, retrieving the coins that had been sewn into it. There were some in the cuffs of her bodice, as well. Bella had stolen them one at a time from Alice's pin money, feeling no guilt. She had, after all, worked almost all her life for the Cullen family without earning a cent.

Sue lifted an eyebrow. Bella held out some in an offering but Sue shook her head. "Keep it. You'll need it."

Sue got down a plate and reached a dipper into a pot over the fireplace. She laid a steaming bowl of stew in front of Bella. "Eat. Let me hold that baby while you do. It's been a while since I had the privilege."

Bella tried to retain her manners, but it was hard. She was ravenous. While she ate, Sue played with Renesmee, tickling her and cooing at the baby to make her smile.

It was the most delicious thing she'd ever eaten, this first meal in freedom. Bella ate every bite and was scraping the spoon against the bottom of the plate for the remnants when Sue refilled the bowl.

"You've heard of the Railroad?"

Bella swallowed the bite of stew before answering. "Only whispers, rumors. The Cul—The _family_ tried to convince us that it was a way of kidnapping ignorant slaves into something far worse."

Sue snorted. "Of course they would."

"You're… you're a conductor?"

Sue's eyes shone with pride. "I am. When your shoes are dry, I'm going to take you to meet a lady who can set you up for the next stage of your journey. We'll get you to Canada, missus, and to freedom."

* * *

It felt so strange to be walking through a city. Sue elbowed her again to remind her not to keep her head down, to walk with purpose and her eyes straight ahead — to walk like a free woman who had a right to be on the sidewalk on this sunny morning.

They stopped in front of a brick townhouse. "And here is where I leave you," Sue said. "God go with you."

"I wish I knew how to thank you."

Sue kissed her cheek. "The knowledge that you and that beautiful baby will live the life of freedom that God intended is all the thanks I need."

She'd departed before Bella realized she hadn't asked for any instructions on what to do next. Should he just knock on the door and introduce herself or—

The lady stepped from her front door, and Bella darted into the shrubs beside her porch. The lady picked up the hem of her skirt and pulled at the door to close it. She spotted Bella crouched down in the bushes and without missing a beat, called inside, "Eliza, I'll be out making calls for a while."

She closed the door and walked past Bella, not turning her head as she said, "Meet me in the park down the street and sit on the bench."

Bella watched her walk away, her full skirts swaying in her wake. She stepped from between the shrubs and followed her, turning into the small park. The lady was already perched on a bench and she smiled at Bella as she approached.

Afraid to look over in the woman's direction, Bella gingerly took a seat beside her. She'd never sat on the same piece of furniture beside a white lady. At home, this would be unthinkable.

"I… I'm sorry to disturb you, but Sue said I should speak with you."

"All is well, missus. You're safe here."

It went without saying that Bella had never been given a courtesy title by a white woman. It seemed when she'd crossed the river, she'd crossed into another world.

Bella turned her head and got her first full look at her. The lady was young, dressed simply, but neatly, her dark hair caught up in braids coiled at the back of her head. Her face was kind, the eyes sharp with intelligence, and she looked at Bella, really _looked_ at her in a way she'd never experienced before. As if this woman saw her as a person just as worthy as she.

"I'm Lucy Hayes," the lady said, "My husband, Rutherford, is an attorney here."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am. I'm Bella." She didn't want to say her last name and Lucy didn't ask.

Lucy reached out and patted her hand. "You're not the first lady that Sue has sent my way. Rutherford has even defended escaped slaves suing for their freedom."

"I… I don't want to sue." Bella hoped Lucy didn't have the wrong impression. "I— What I wanted was to find somewhere safe. Somewhere my husband could join us."

"I expect you're on your way to Canada."

"I — Yes." Bella pulled the blanket more carefully around Renesmee to shield her from the sun. "I have money, if you can help me buy a ticket on the right train. I'm not sure…" Her voice trailed away and she could feel her knees starting to tremble. Maybe this had all been a mistake, a terrible mistake.

The woman just smiled. "Walk with me."

They headed down the street, Bella instinctively taking a spot a pace behind Lucy. Lucy stubbornly halted her pace until Bella had caught up to her side and then walked right beside her, smiling and nodding at the passersby.

"Ma'am, I don't mean to question you. But why… why would you help me?" Bella lowered her voice. "If it was known you were trying to help me escape, you could go to jail."

Lucy gave a little smile. "I dare them to try. I have some status in this world, and I intend to use it for good."

Bella was startled, but she looked back down at her feet, peeking up at the faces of those who passed them as they walked. No one gave a second glance to a white woman walking alongside a woman with dark skin. No one gave Bella a sneer when she met their eyes. A man even tipped his hat to her.

"Are we going somewhere?" Bella asked.

"Yes, there was something I wanted to show you." Lucy led them to a shady street corner before she turned to Bella. "What I am about to say is difficult, but I beg you to hear me out. It would be safer if you went on alone."

The breath puffed from Bella's lips like she'd been struck. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that it's safer, for both you and the child."

"I couldn't — Never! How could —"

"Bella, listen to me for a moment."

Bella forced herself to quiet. She was accustomed to obedience after all.

"I want to tell you a story." Lucy reached into her waistband pocket and drew out a watch. She pressed a button and the cover opened to show a man's picture inside. It was tiny and spotted, the old image indistinct. Bella had seen similar old daguerreotypes of family members of the Cullen family, so she knew this image had to be a decade old at least.

"When I was a little girl, my father was a small-town doctor in Ohio. We had a small but comfortable house, and we never went hungry, but my father wasn't a wealthy man by any means. But we were happy, and my father was respected as a man of conviction. He was a well-known abolitionist, but words are easy. It's easy to lend your support to something when it's just words. The true test of character is what you'll do when you must personally sacrifice for your beliefs. That was the greatest lesson my father ever taught me."

Bella took the watch from her and looked down at the man in the daguerreotype, his stern, unsmiling features, his eyes seeming to stare straight into hers.

"One day, he got a letter in the mail telling him his aunt in Kentucky had died. She left him twenty slaves in her will."

Prices for slaves in Kentucky were higher than many states in the South. A good slave could bring a thousand dollars. **[iv]** Such a windfall would change a family's fortunes forever.

"My father was, of course, advised just to send word they should be sold and the money sent to him, but he said he could never live off money that came to him from selling other people as slaves. He took the next train down to Kentucky, so he could write out manumission papers for them himself, to ensure that no one would ever be able to question whether they'd been legally freed. But when he drove up to the plantation's gates, he was warned to stay away. There was a cholera outbreak in the slave quarters, he was told. Best to leave and come back when it had passed and sell the survivors."

That's what most men would have done, Bella thought. She'd seen epidemics in the slave quarters at home, and the slaves were locked in their shacks until it had passed.

"But my father was a doctor and he believed his oath extended to people of any race. He could not leave them to suffer. He went into the quarters and tried to heal them. But a week letter, my mother got a letter telling her my father had died of cholera."

"I'm so sorry," Bella said. "He sounds like a wonderful man."

"He was." Lucy traced a finger over the glass covering her father's picture. "My mother was now widowed with two young children and no means of support. Her best friend came to console her and advised her to have the slaves auctioned off as soon as possible so she could support our family. My mother looked her oldest friend dead in the eye and said she'd rather become a washerwoman, scrubbing floors and strangers' laundry, than to live off the proceeds of slavery. She freed those slaves, just as my father had wanted. **[v]** Eliza was once one of those slaves."

Lucy put the watch away. "Bella, we're all given only a short time on this earth to help others. As a woman, I am limited by our society as to what I can do. And so I work within what sphere I am given. Charity work. Urging my husband to take on the cases of escaping slaves for free. And when Sue sends me a woman with a child, I see to it that her baby is safe until she can reach the place that can honestly call itself _the land of the free—_ Canada."

Bella said nothing. She clutched her child closer, wanting to flee, wanting to cry, wanting to tear her hair in agony. But she knew one incontrovertible truth — if the slave-catchers found her at any stage in her journey, they would take Renesmee from Bella and she would never see the baby again. Renesmee would be sold, likely to a plantation further south. Bella would never know what had happened to her. And Bella herself… the tortures of hell would be more pleasant than what she'd be subjected to as they tried to force her to tell them who'd helped her along the way, who'd known of her escape and not reported it. They'd whip her in front of the other slaves to show what happened to someone who tried to escape. If she lived, she'd probably be sold, never to see her family or Edward again.

"They're going to be looking for a young woman with a baby. If you were here with your husband, I would advise you to travel separately. When you've reached Canada, you can send for her. I'll travel with her to Cleveland myself and put her on the boat to you."

"But who will care for her?"

"Look there."

She pointed over to a very large two-story house. "This is the Negro Orphan's Asylum. This is one of the charities I work for, and it's part of my abolition work."

Four chimneys poked from its high, stately roof, and dormers shone from the eaves. It was a beautiful house, a house like the slave-owning families of Kentucky would have, a stately home of elegance and wealth. Outside, several children played between the trees. Even from this distance, Bella could see the difference between these children and the slave children at home. These children were plump and neatly dressed, the girls with white pinafores over their dresses to keep them clean while they played. As she watched, a little boy tripped and fell flat in the grass. Instantly, the woman supervising them rushed over to see if he was hurt, but he popped up grinning, unharmed but for a scrape on the knee. He dashed back to join his friends.

"Your baby will not be the first child I've placed there in anticipation of their parents reclaiming them once they've reached a safe place. **[vi]** Raised here, there's no chance they'll be snatched away and put back into chains. They have the legal assumption of being born free."

"I swear it to you, Bella. She will be well cared-for there. A married couple lives in the house with the children. They treat those babies like they're their own. And there are ten lady managers who oversee the daily operation of the place. Everyone wants nothing but the best for those children — the best education, the best possible opportunities in life."

"But how will I get her back?" Bella's voice broke, and the last word emerged as a ragged cry, the agony in her heart making her throat as raw as sandpaper.

"I swear to you, Bella. On my word as a Christian woman, I will see that your daughter is returned to you as soon as you write me that you've reached safety. And I'll give the other women I trust your name in case I'm called from this earth.

"I can't." Bella lowered her head to press Renesmee's forehead against her cheek.

"You can," Lucy said, her voice soft but firm. "You were able to escape from your bonds and swim the Ohio River to make it to freedom. For her. You can do this for her."

It was the hardest thing Bella had ever done. Harder than leaving Edward. Harder than leaving her father, knowing she would never see him again.

But she knew Lucy was right. If she were captured, at least Renesmee would never have to go back. She would always be safe, would be educated and grow up to choose her own destiny — just what Bella had wanted for her daughter. No matter what, Renesmee had a safe place now.

Slowly, achingly, her arms loosened from around her baby, and she handed her over to Lucy. The place where Renesmee had lain against her heart felt cold and empty.

"Please, do you have a piece of paper?"

"In my reticule." Lucy nodded her head toward the bag hanging from her forearm.

Bella fished inside it and felt a little notebook. A tiny pencil was clipped to the side. She quickly scrawled a few words and tucked the slip of paper into Renesmee's blanket.

"Please, read that to her, if—" Bella couldn't complete the sentence.

Lucy nodded. "But I won't have to. I promise."

Bella closed her eyes. She heard Lucy's heels clicking on the pavement as she crossed the street and walked toward the orphanage. Bella couldn't watch them go. She didn't want that image in her head. Let the last image of her baby be her sleeping in her mother's arms, the sunlight dappling her little cheeks as it filtered down through the trees above.

She looked up at the sky, wondering if the clouds she saw would make it all the way down to the Cullen plantation where Edward would see them. She wished she could tie a message to one of them, or to one of the birds chirping from the treetop. Just a few words, as she'd written to her baby, to let him know she loved him and she longed for them all to be together again.

"Bella?"

It was Lucy. She was back and her arms were empty. Bella had held onto her composure to this point, but at the sight of those empty arms, she could take it no longer. She collapsed down to the brick sidewalk with a hoarse cry, not a moan or a scream, but somewhere in between. Sobs erupted from her, shaking her entire body as if they would rattle her into pieces right there on the street.

Lucy knelt beside her, and Bella felt her hands stroking over her back. She was saying soft, soothing things, promising it wouldn't be long. But even a moment without her child was too long.

Lucy led her back to the park bench where they'd first began talking. She was telling Bella about the next stages. Levi Coffin, who was the head of the orphanage, was going to take her to the next "station."

"Station?" she repeated with a shake of her head.

"The Underground Railroad. Levi **[vii]** is sometimes called its president. He's going to make the arrangements for you. He's helped almost three thousand other people make it to Canada."

"I can't just buy a ticket and take a real train?"

"No, Bella, I'm sorry, but it doesn't work like that. People will be looking for you. Not only slave catchers, but people here in the north who are in favor of slavery and want the reward they'd get for turning you in. And there are people who say that we should follow the law even if we don't agree with it." Lucy gave a wry shake of her head. "It will take longer, but Levi will make sure you're safe along the way."

Bella tried to smile, but it was extremely difficult. She was in a fever of impatience now. She could almost laugh at herself now, thinking it was hard leaving Edward and running through the woods. She hadn't known what difficulty was, hadn't known what sacrifice truly meant until now.

Lucy was explaining where they'd hide her and how Levi would meet with her when it was safe, but all Bella could think about was that there were yet more crossings to make.

 _Finis_

* * *

 _The story ends here, with Bella and her family facing an uncertain future… just as thousands of immigrant families today face an uncertain future of their own._

Historical Notes:

* * *

[i] Mary Todd Lincoln attended this school. Madame Mentelle was a refugee who'd fled France during the Revolution.

[ii] Part of Bella's story is based on the story of Ona (Oney) Judge, a slave owned by George Washington. Ona was the playmate of Washington's granddaughter Nellie Custis. Ona never reported she was abused by the Washingtons, but she thirsted for freedom. They promised Ona she'd be freed by their will when they died. She escaped from them when she learned they intended to give Ona as a wedding present to another granddaughter, Elizabeth, which would mean she wouldn't be freed when the Washingtons passed away. George used some seriously underhanded tactics to try to capture/kidnap Ona and drag her back into slavery, but she managed to evade him and lived the rest of her life as a free woman.

[iii] This song was written in 1860; the story is set in the 1850s when Lucy and Rutherford Hayes lived in Cincinnati. Pardon the small anachronism.

[iv] The current market price of slaves was reported in the August 22, 1863 issue of the _New York Times._ They noted the price was higher in Kentucky because they were sold for gold (as opposed to Confederate currencies) and the price ranged between $700 and $1,250. Just to give you an idea of how much money this was, a laborer made about ten cents an hour.

[v] Lucy remained in contact with people freed from slavery by her mother. One of them, a woman named Winnie, came to work for Lucy at the White House after Rutherford's election to the presidency. Lucy later helped send Winnie's daughter to Oberlin College.

[vi] Lucy really was a supporter of the black orphanage in Cincinnati. She later wrote of a story of finding an infant, likely the child of an escaping slave, left on her doorstep. She put the child in the orphanage which guaranteed the child would always be free.

[vii] Levi Coffin helped at least three thousand slaves escape to Canada. He refused to carry goods in his business which had been made with slave labor. His neighbors, outraged at his abolitionist activities and rumors that he helped slaves to escape, tried to drive him out of business with a boycott. It failed. Slave-hunters frequently approached Coffin's home to look for escaped slaves, but Coffin refused to allow them entry until they showed him a warrant or proof that they owned the slave. By the time they came back with paperwork, the slaves would be long gone. It's said that Harriet Beecher Stowe based the kind Quaker couple in _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ off the Coffins.


End file.
